Pico's Madness
by Rorre
Summary: A crossover/parody of Pico's School and Madness Combat. Who would think the Chicken Dance would lead to such mayhem!


This story was NOT made to offend. The character, series, and concept were. Everything involving goth bashing, goth manslaughter, non-emo fascism and dividenation (if that' even a word) belongs to Newgrounds dot com, the current holder of Pico and all of his rights. This story is a crossover parody of Pico's School and Madness Combat. It is reccommended you view at least ONE of these series to understand the plot and personalities involved in this fanfiction.

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**PICO MADNESS**

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Somewhere In BBS

"Hey emo." Pico whispered to the pink-haired, goth kid in a skullbones shirt and black jacket, a boombox over his shoulder as he leaned against the same tree he was within ear's range, "You mind turning that shit down?"

Gary, the fake missing eye behind his pirate eyepatch glaring, didn't answer. He throbbed his head back and forth rhythmically, as if the music was actually good. His expression was stained with orgasam. Pico leaned around, pushing the boombox out of Gary's hands and turning around. For the three seconds of peace he received from this action, an SMG was now breathing it's metallic oxygen into his right ear. Pico rolled away, unholstering his own two Micro-Uzis and peppering the entire tree with lead.

A human figure limped, hitting the ground. The goth's pink hair became zesty and dead, while his skin became a fusion white. Pico smirked, walking over and switching Linkin Park's _Numb_ to a happier, more joyful _Techno Chicken Dance_ . The green-shirted boy prepared to leave down the hillyards to the south, but felt a jolt of pain scratch his brain as the Chicken Dance faded. Rather, D.A.D's "Red" played. Pico turned, watching as a blood-coated finger smeared the boombox's PLAY button.

Two men (boys) entered the scene, both goths and having witnessed the whole event.

Pico gulped, lunging for the boombox. One of the goths pinned him, elbowing his back. Pico kicked him off, sending him crashing into the second goth. More entered the scene, complete random strangers who had entered GrayVille National Park and just so happened to be gothic, emo fascists began to swarm.  
Pico leapt at one, knocking him down and widearming him recklessly. Another goth yanked him off, tossing him into the arms of another. A full blow of stamina bashed into the goth's stomach, his arms fell off of Pico and his face grunted in agony as the outsole of the boy's shoe connected. Pico jumped off of him, pounding another goth that dared to fight back. Headphones were splattered in their owner's blood, the cords coiled around Pico's fingers, and he swang them around in an inhuman fury, like a mace as they battered away goths and emos alike. He released them, letting them pierce the non-feeling arm of a goth who died promptly.

Two, belt-gloved arms snatched his shoulders. A tingling sensation ran down his arms, joined by the stinging pain of two fists drumming his stomach. Two goths, both with IWTD t-shirts on, beat down on him. Pico would not stand for this, catching the attacker's fist and violently shoving him forward. Then he elbowed the one behind him, with immense strength, catapulting him overhead and into the previous goth. The two rolled down the hill, missing a gaggle's worth of goths that climbed the hill tenatively. Pico uppercutted, jumped on, boogified, and utterly wiped them all out.

Eighteen goth corpses tainted the gray field grass. Pico, cheer as a pepper for having knocked down the gothic population by even a little, unscrewed the pin of a closely held hand grenade, chucked it, and ignored the ringing in his ears as the pile of bodies vanished into scraps, in their place a thick, black scorch on the field and boldening the holed tree.

Body parts scattered, Pico waited a full six seconds. The emos never stopped coming...

And they wouldn't change tactics today. No, not today. For you see, a purple-shirted boy no taller than Pico himself, with a fluffy, purple ash afro and jazz shades hovered into the natural arena, landing gently on his feet with a strange telekinetic flight.  
He glanced around, studying the body parts and organs littered about Grayville Park, then spotted Pico, scowling and flagging his hands in a fight position. Pico achknowledged this, certain this emo was about to die, and returned his own unarmed fight stance.

The boy's right hand glowed. Pico ducked and rolled under a strict, focused bolt of lightning that cut over him. Hot air washed over him, precogniting how horribly painful such a blast would have been had it struck it's mark.

Instead, it stabbed the back of one of the four remaining corpse's heads. The lightning dissipated, but the dead goth's head glowed, flickered, and soon radiated a sick algae. Despite the severe concussion wounds Pico was sure would have put the goth on a one way ticket to Hell, the goth stood, unharmed though lumbering, and apparently under the psychic goth's control.  
Pico swept away, swinging both arms into the depth's of the revived goth's now squishy and somewhat "fleshy" forehead. With the amount of strength he put into each blow, the force would have knocked a normal man unconscious, but this goth continued it's lumbering. It's arms sprawled outward, nearly groping Pico's shoulders. The green youth yelled in surprise, punching with supreme anger into the base of the goth's neck. Adding even more shock to the situation, the goth's head flew clean off, as if there was no longer a brain piloting or nerves sending pain mes...as he thought about it, it actually DID make sense.

Regardless, he wasn't that strong. And heads didn't fly off of necks that easily. Just what the hell was thing!?

He didn't want to ponder it.

A micro-Uzi in his left hand, Pico fired what remained of the current clip into the zombie goth. It bobbed back and forward like a ragdoll, absorbing all the bullets as if they were needles, but finally surrendered and limped, falling on it's back and releasing several red bullet holes to the naked eye. Pico whipped around, slammed a fresh clip into his gun, and unloaded on the Psychic Goth.

Pings of metal bouncing off of reinforced metal bubbled around him. A signed photograph pin-up of Marilyn Manson flashed in front of him, shielding him, and soaking up a clip's worth of ammo and leaving Pico with an empty gun.

An invisible force stunned him, pushing him to the ground. The Psychi Goth raised a hand again, a bolt of lightning arced over Pico and struck another, undecapacited body. The undead Goth, he finally admitted it as a zombie, rose with a head as cucumber as the last, lumbering over and smothering it's target with it's arms. Pico swatted the ZomGoth's (lol) arms away, batting at it with his fists and dragging it down with him.

Now they were in a tussle, rolling down a slight hill before stopping. Pico was on top of it, clutching the zombified goth's throat and viscously tugging. Just as before, the goth's head came off, the unbloodied portion of his throat gripped in Pico's hands. Psychic Goth barely flinched as Pico hurled the dismembered at him, telapathically stopping and redirecting it back at him. But it was then the unexpected occured...Pico caught the head again, and chucked it back!

The Psychic Goth stirred, and by that we mean glided, upward and over the head flying at him. He pounced on Pico, delivering a quick punch and slapping down his Uzi. His chain of swings and fist throws overpowered Pico, sending the youth onto his feet before he could even feel what had hit him where and first.  
The Psychic Goth reared back, dodging Pico as he got to his feet, kicking upward. Another punch twisted into his face, sending Pico hurtling breathless into the bark of the bullet-riddeled tree. Tendrils of fatigue whipped at him, but melted when numbness gripped his legs. The Psychic Goth used his telapathy to lift him and then slam him into the ground with increasing force, then again, and again, and again...until Pico's breathing had seemingly stopped entirely.

"It is done." Alucard prayed, tossing Pico onto the ground with the other goth bodies.

A thread of hot yellow penetrated his wall of thought. Alucard vanished, dodging the rounds from Pico's right Uzi and teleporting away. Pico searched for him, but wailed as telapathy had once again outwitted him, catapulting him down a steep hill and away from the dissapearing target. He refused to give up, but what could he do?

This man...wasn't human...if super-powered emos could be called as such...

He fell hard, catching himself and dashing angrily back up the hill in search of revenge. The same force punched him, knocking him away. Alucard flew his hands together, telapathically shuffling the goth bodies away so as to prepare a more "fitting" battleground. Pico recovered quickly, using the oppurtunuity to take another potshot. It missed as Alucard teleported whimsingly, the psychic goth floated and summoned a large, oval-like object: A cannon.

Pico confronted it, unafraid. Alucard nodded, pressing a red button on the cannon's top and firing a heavy, iron ball of volatile powders. Sparks fissured from it's base, fire teared the cannonballs artificial cheeks as it streaked it under a jumping Pico, a second one followed suit but missed as Pico slid under it. Verticallly challenged, Alucard fired a third cannonball post haste, but Pico, just standing, fell back, letting the deadly fireball speed before his eyes and over. He whipped out both Micro-Uzis and fired wildly. Alucard was caught off gaurd, and bullets pelted him. He could taste blood in his mouth, each shot more painful than the last, and at last limped, head bent over, and faded into nothingness.

For all intents and purposes, the Psychic Goth Alucard was dead. Pico, victory assured, pulled out a new arsenal: a sawn-off shotgun. He blasted away an incoming goth, meleeing another and winging the butt into his forehead. More goths came to the same fate, and Pico chucked his shotgun as it clicked empty, equipping two sheltered pistols and picking off what few goths remained. As they too clicked empty, Pico clambered on top of the unmanned cannon, standing triumphantly above the bodies.

"FOR SYLVESTER!" a goth screamed, lunging for Pico with knife in hand.

Pico snatched his knife-hand, twisting it as they fell. The knife stabbed into the ground, and Pico shoved the goth off of him. He retrieved it, whirling around as the goth charged him. The full length of the blade pierced the goth's stomach, Pico swished it upwards and cut off the goth boy's chin, ending him through both injury and blood loss.

The youth sighed, walking out of the bloodbath. He returned, setting the boombox on the ground, and pressed a button.

'The Chicken Dance' played, signfying the battle's end. Pico shrugged, dancing to the music in happiness. He was one step closer to ending the Penillian-Goth revolution...

But all heroes needed breaks. So he continued to dance.

_And so it was on this day, our hero had slain thirty goths._

_And he would later admit to having a good time doing it._

_Thirty-Two actually, if you count the ZomGoths..._

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Pico's School and Madness Combat are two seperate series. They are BOTH property of their respective creators, Tom Fulp and Matt Krinkels Jolly, both flash artists and veterans of blatant Flash violence. 


End file.
